A man leaves his house but does not take his knife. His wife chides him, saying that it is late and he should be cautious, but the man dismisses her concerns and proceeds unarmed. Shortly thereafter he is accosted by a group of robbers who beat him, stab him and leave him for dead on the road.

“Lucky I didn’t listen to her,” gasps the dying man. “They could have stolen my knife as well.”

- Sjocelym joke.

Tasja bent over the twinplate, squinting at the needle as it ticked from one number to the next with practiced efficiency. His free hand was transcribing the numbers into a notebook, but even as he wrote his eyes never strayed from the marker.

“I wonder who this is,” he mumbled, seeming almost hypnotized. “It’s not the same person that was talking with us before, back when we were first heading up to Sjatel.”

Mark frowned, leaning closer. “How can you tell?” he asked. He pitched his voice low, but his words still echoed throughout the high-ceilinged control room - quiet, but for a few scattered conversations and the ever-present roar of the water below.

“The needle,” Tasja said, nodding towards the twinplate. “Look how smooth it is. Every sweep is at a constant speed, with precise pauses between each sequence. No hesitation, no breaks, like they have the whole codebook committed to memory.” He shook his head. “The last one used to pause after each sequence, and fidget with the needle if he had to look up a code.”

“A different scribe?” Mark asked, shrugging. “It makes sense, they’re probably shuffling people around everywhere while they get things ready at the wall.”

“Whoever he is, he’s really good,” Tasja said. “He’s been doing this longer than anyone I’ve ever received from directly.”

“Perhaps it’s Vumo himself,” Arjun suggested, walking up to study the twinplate. “He’s certainly been around long enough to gain some mastery.”

Tasja sucked in a breath, his note-taking stuttering to a halt before he shook himself and sloppily jotted down the sequence that the twinplate had just inscribed. “Why would he be operating it directly?” he muttered. “He has to have people for that.”

“Everyone has staffing issues,” Mark chuckled. “Maybe his old scribe slept in or something.” He straightened up and stretched, turning to look at the center of the room where Maja hung motionless in midair, hair streaming in all directions as if she was floating underwater.

“How ‘bout it, Sparkles?” he asked. “Can you see who’s on the other end of that thing?”

Maja turned to face him, her whole body rotating in a languid twist. “Yes,” she said, smiling.

“Is it Vumo?” Mark asked.

She continued to rotate, still smiling, until she was facing away from the three men.

Mark gave an irritated grunt and turned back to the others. “Typical,” he muttered, slouching to sit on the bench beside Tasja as the scribe finished noting down the message. “What’s it say?”

“Working,” Tasja hummed, sounding mildly irritated. “Let’s see - Arrival of… personnel, at Idran Saal. Arrival of equipment at Idran Saal. Request for-” He frowned, flipping through his codebook. “There’s not a preset code for it, but I’m pretty sure they’re asking us to activate our gateway to receive an incoming connection and respond when ready.”

“About damn time,” Mark said, popping to his feet. “I was beginning to think they were having problems with the gateway on their end.”

Arjun nodded, leaning over to peer at Tasja’s notes. “They likely wanted to test out the frame they built with their Ce Raedhil gateway first,” he said. “I believe Vumo said this was new ground for them, so it would make sense not to involve us until they were sure.”

“He’s so considerate like that,” Mark muttered. “All right, let’s assume that he’s going to send the Aesvain through. Tasja, go grab Jyte and tell him to prepare for an incoming connection.”

Tasja nodded and ran to the valley stairs, his footsteps quickly disappearing against the low roar of the waterfall echoing up from far below. Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning to face the window. It was an uncharacteristically bright day outside, the cloud cover pierced through in spots to reveal the drab cerulean sky. Sunlight lanced through the openings and refracted from the thicker layer of clouds below, blinding white.

After a few seconds Arjun moved up to stand beside him. “I wonder how Jesse and Jackie are doing,” he mused, switching to English now that Tasja had left.

“After a road trip with Sjogydhu?” Mark snorted. “Jackie is probably climbing the walls. I don’t like the guy, but I’ve seen enough evil bastards that I can tolerate them professionally. Somehow I don’t think you geologists have the same need to put up with murderous psychopaths at work functions.”

Arjun quirked an eyebrow and feigned contemplation until the implied joke drew a laugh from Mark, then shook his head slowly as his grin faded. “It really does worry me, though,” Arjun said. “We can joke about Sjogydhu, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that it wasn’t just him. There’s something wrong with many of the Sjocelym. Most of them, even.”

“I doubt it’s lead pipes,” Mark said, chuckling. “Too much time spent licking moisture off their utelym, maybe.” He grinned at Arjun, who looked back with a serious expression.

Mark sighed and shrugged. “Okay, sure,” he admitted. “There are some questionable folks on the Sjocelym side of things. It’s not like we don’t have the same problem, there’s plenty of warlords and CEOs and stuff that would stab you to make their day easier if they knew they wouldn’t get caught.” He spread his hands wide. “People suck, especially people with a little taste of power.”

Arjun nodded slowly. “You aren’t wrong,” he said. “It might be that Sjocelym culture just doesn’t place the same value on empathy that we’re accustomed to.” He shook his head, making a frustrated expression. “But that doesn’t feel right. If anything, it feels like the culture is the only thing that forces them to hold to the veneer of decency.”

Mark gave him a questioning look. “How so?” he asked.

“Think about it,” he said, turning with a sudden intensity in his eyes. “They obviously have the foundation. You’ve seen them talk about aid to the needy, guest right, all the trappings of a culture that prizes altruism, honesty and generosity. But past the bare forms of it there’s no follow-through - the refugees are treated like animals, their soldiers and citizens played like pieces on a game board. They know what they should be doing, they just don’t understand why.”

Mark gave him a troubled look. “So, what,” he asked, “you just think people here are just built different? Like, mentally they’re just not wired the same way?”

“Not the Cereinem,” Arjun said. “You’d be hard-pressed to meet a more morally-driven man than Tesvaji. And not the Aesvain, they hold to their convictions quite strongly.” He raised a finger to point towards the broad, cloudy expanse in front of them. “It is specifically the Sjocelym that act amorally. Just the people here.” He turned his head, his eyes flicking briefly to the side - toward the center of the room.

Mark’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Wait, hold on,” he said.

“Scriptsmithing was heavily restricted, before our… favorite sorority was established,” Arjun said. “There were risks without them watching over the process. Do you remember what she told us?” His eyes darted towards Maja again. “It corrupted people, made them want to gather power, changed the way they thought.”

“And you think that’s what’s happening to the Sjocelym?” Mark asked, feeling his mouth turn suddenly dry.

Arjun looked out the window. “Perhaps,” he said. “It’s possible that it’s purely cultural, and I’m certainly no anthropologist.” He turned again, looking back at Mark. “But it feels wrong. Unnatural, even. It doesn’t fit with all the rest - or am I imagining things?”

Mark turned and looked across the control room at the few people wandering through - Aesvain carrying loads of supplies, a few children that danced and laughed as they ran up and down the gantry stairs - and Tesu, who sat staring raptly at Maja.

“You might be on to something,” he said. “It’s at least worth keeping in mind, although I don’t know what we’re going to do about it.”

“It could accelerate our plans,” Arjun said grimly. “We’ve been presuming that we’ll have to address - her - after the confrontation up north, before she can succumb to the corruption. But what if she already has? What if it’s got its hooks in deep, even now?”

Mark pressed his lips together into a line. “Do you think we’re at risk?”

“From which part?” Arjun snorted. “Don’t ask me to speculate on our hostess. As far as the corruption itself goes, I’m hoping it’s gradual - something that happens when you interact with scriptsmithing a certain way, building up slowly over the years.”

“Tasja has been using scriptwork daily since he was little,” Mark pointed out. “He’s more or less okay.”

“More or less,” Arjun replied, smiling softly. That smile quickly died, however, and his voice was quiet when he spoke next. “If that theory is true, though, and the effect scales with exposure to scriptsmithing over time - we’ve still got a big problem.”

“What’s that?” Mark asked.

Arjun gave him a flat look. “Vumo.”

Mark blinked, then shook his head. “Actually,” he sighed, “that would explain a lot.”

It was some time before they had the Aesvain prepared at the gateway, an armor-clad and angrily glowering Jyte standing just before the empty arch. Others stood to the side with small piles from their limited cache of supplies - blankets, bandages, water.

“How many do you think?” Jyte asked, not taking his eyes from the gateway.

Mark sucked his breath in through his teeth, holding it for a moment before exhaling in a rush. “Not sure,” he admitted. “It was a big camp, though, and they implied that they were full-up. Hundreds, easily.”

An angry murmur rippled through the nearby guards. They were grim and expressionless, holding tightly to their halberds as they waited for the incoming connection from Idran Saal. Mark eyed them before turning back to Jyte, leaning in close to the shorter man’s helm.

“Listen, I know this is going to be rough for your men,” he said, “but they’ve got to keep calm. We can settle up with the Sjocelym after this is all over.”

Jyte looked up slowly to meet his eye, but said nothing. Finally, he pressed his lips together and looked forward. “You’ve seen the camp,” he said. “How calm should we be?”

Mark shook his head. “Buddy, as far as I’m concerned they can all burn,” he said. “But we need them. If that wall goes down, all of Tinem Sjocel goes with it - and like it or not, this is the last defensible position we’ve got.”

Jyte nodded slowly, any response he would have made cut off by a low rumbling from the gateway. “Ready!” he called out, waving his men into a loose formation around the arch. A loose circle formed with pikes held at the ready, encircling the stone doorway in a ring of gleaming metal blades. There was a flash of light as the noise came to its peak - by now, most of the guards had learned to keep one eye closed as they waited for the final activation.

The archway opened to show Sjogydhu standing alone in a darkened space, blinking against a rush of air that seemed to stream past him. He looked through to their side before taking a nonchalant step through the arch, regarding the leveled blades of the Aesvain as though they were an honor guard.

“Mariq Ry,” he said, inclining his head before turning to the Aesvain commander. “Jyte. Thank you both for your efforts. As you can see, we have been able to use the keystone you obtained in our gate frame without difficulty. We’ll likely be reinforcing the garrison at a constant rate from this point forward, but per our agreement-”

“Give us our people, scriptsmith,” Jyte said flatly. “They’ll tell us the proper regard for your words, if you’ve any left to share after.”

Sjogydhu gave him a curt nod, then walked back through the gateway. There were some indistinct noises from the other side before a pair of Sjocelym guards appeared, and behind them-

A line of thin, bedraggled Aesvain began walking slowly through the arch. They wore simple, clean clothing and had obviously been given a chance to wash recently, but that could not erase the signs of neglect written in too-angular faces and dull eyes, bruised and scabbed skin that still chafed red where a pair of shackles would sit. The gateway hall fell into silence as the procession continued. Hundreds of shuffling footsteps over stone blurred together into a low whisper, broken only when one of the halberdiers let out a strangled cry and dropped his pike, rushing forward to pull a skeletally thin woman out from the line.

She flinched away from his touch, and he took a step back in dismay - but then her face came hesitantly upwards and her eyes widened. She reached out with a trembling hand, which the man took. The silence lingered until the woman flung her arms around the halberdier with a choked wail. Her cries broke the dam, and guards and bystanders alike pushed towards the line of refugees until Jyte was forced to intervene and clear space for the rest to continue their lifeless march through.

And then it stopped.

Sjogydhu stood at the end of the line, waiting patiently for a one-legged man to hobble through on his crutch before stepping through the arch once more and looking expectantly at Mark. “There,” Sjogydhu said. “All of the Aesvain we had gathered, delivered here as requested. I trust this will ease things between our two camps?”

Mark could feel his pulse in his ears. He looked around at the Aesvain who were holding tight to their loved ones or still searching frantically through the crowd of confused new arrivals - far too many of the latter. Those that had arrived numbered barely more than one hundred.

“This is it?” Mark asked, balling his hands into fists. “There were more in the camps, Sjogydhu. I saw them. There were hundreds of them.”

Sjogydhu looked up at Mark, his eyes completely calm. “There were,” he said.

Mark hauled Sjogydhu up by his gorget and slammed him against the curved side of the arch hard enough to draw sparks from the stone. The Sjocelym guards on the other side leveled their weapons and moved forward - but Mark shifted his grip, pushing Sjogydhu into the transit plane so that the ephemeral barrier between the two sides lay across his face.

“Step back,” Mark said hoarsely, sparing a glance for the guards. “If the gate shuts off now, we’ll both get to keep some.”

“We’re allies, Mariq Ry,” Sjogydhu said, his tone even despite the pressure on his neck. “You need us, just as we need you. Remember that two of your own are still in our camp.” He gave Mark a cool look. “Why did they insist on staying so far from the gateway, I wonder?”

Mark felt a spike of panic slice through his anger and dropped Sjogydhu before he could ask more potentially compromising questions where Maja could hear. “You’re a lucky man,” he growled.

“Quite the contrary, Mariq Ry,” Sjogydhu said, readjusting his armor. “Unlucky and desperate, as are you, or neither of us would be having this conversation.” He dropped his hand from his gorget, then gave Mark a level look.

“I am aware of your opinions,” he said. “Zhaqi Ra has made hers clear as well, and while the rest of your mismatched party have been less overt in their statements I would not term them particularly subtle. You detest us.”

Mark returned his look. “It’s nice that we understand each other.”

“I don’t care,” Sjogydhu said dismissively. “Your opinion and mine become irrelevant when we are scoured from the world along with every other thinking mind in Tinem Sjocel. I know you’re at least partially reasonable, so you’re aware of this.” He stepped back, now firmly on the Idran Saalym side of the Gateway. “I assume you’ll want to talk with the two members of your party who mysteriously-”

“Yes, yes,” Mark said, cutting him off. “I’m coming through, just a moment.”

Sjogydhu peered around him at the crowd of Aesvain, huddled in knots around the new arrivals. “Just you?” he asked. “Our invitation to the Aesvain-”

“Buddy, now is not the time,” Mark said. “If you take one step past me all you’ll get is a spear in the gut.”

Sjogydhu looked as though he might protest, but he merely sighed and shrugged off Mark’s hand before turning to stand farther back. “When you’re ready, then.”

He walked back to stand next to Jyte, who had not moved from his original position in the encirclement. He did not look up as Mark approached.

“Thank you,” Jyte said quietly. “You’ve seen at least some of our people returned.”

Mark looked down at the captain. His expression was blank, but Mark could see the faint glimmer of tears on his cheeks as he watched those who had found loved ones - and those who had not. “I’m sorry it wasn’t more,” he said.

“Sjogydhu… is right,” Jyte said quietly.

Mark looked down in surprise, and Jyte tilted his head up to reveal reddened, wet eyes. “He is,” Jyte said softly. “None of this matters if we’ve no future, and we’ve both seen what comes for them. We saw it come for us at Sjatel. They cannot hold against it, nor can we.”

“So, you want to work together with them?” Mark said cautiously.

“I want to eat his heart,” Jyte seethed, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he flicked his eyes towards the gateway. “But survival is first. I will speak with my men, and we will follow you in two days - enough time to let the fires die down.”

Mark nodded. “And after?” he asked.

Jyte shot another loathing glance toward the gateway. “After is after. If we’ve managed to survive, the situation will have changed.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You’ll be going with them?”

“For a bit,” Mark said. “I’ll set up another connection in two days, same timing as Idhytse.” He clapped Jyte on the shoulder, then straightened up. “I’m not sure I could be as calm as you, in the same circumstance,” he said.

“Not calm, Cajet,” Jyte said. “Patient.”

Mark hesitated, then nodded to Jyte before turning and grabbing his pack from beside the arch. The barrier was like passing through a soap bubble as he walked briskly through, and he felt his ears pop with the change in altitude. He worked his jaw, scowling, and his hearing cleared just as the doorway vanished behind him.

“Well, Mariq Ry,” Sjogydhu said. “Once more our guest. Welcome back to Idran Saal.” He gestured towards the doorway leading out from the dusty gate hall, where a faint glow of sunlight lit the far wall.

Mark snorted and fell into step behind him as they moved out. “I’m thrilled,” he said. “Where are Jesse and Jackie?”

“Inspecting the wall and gate, I believe,” Sjogydhu said. “Vumo Ra had mentioned that they formed a scripted barrier in addition to their physical function, and they wished to examine some of the visible scriptwork near the gatehouse.”

“Vumo is here?” Mark said, frowning.

Sjogydhu nodded. “It’s hardly surprising,” he said. “He is in charge of the defense, after all.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Mark said. “It’s just that he’s shown up all the other times we used the gateway.”

“Believe it or not, Mariq Ry, he has better things to do with his time than trade inane banter with you and your friends,” Sjogydhu said acerbically, pausing to glare up at Mark. “Vumo Ra is an important man, he had other duties to attend to.”

Mark shrugged and motioned for Sjogydhu to continue leading the way, walking after him as they emerged from the building. They had sited their gateway in a large central structure near a plaza, somewhere they hadn’t passed in their previous visit. The area of the plaza had been entirely filled with tents, supplies and hurriedly-constructed buildings, some of which still had workers swarming over them.

The air was chokingly dusty and hot after the cool mountaintop, and Mark’s eyes began to water. “I forgot how much I hate this place,” he grumbled.

“We will all hate it more before the end,” Sjogydhu replied.

“You must be fun at parties,” Mark said. “Any new reports? When do you expect the attack?”

Sjogydhu shook his head. “No sooner than six days,” he said. “Not unless the enemy has been concealing their true capability. We have been observing the destruction of draam je qaraivat across the Vidim Vai as they advance, and so far their speed has been regular.”

“I can’t see why she’d bother trying to trick us,” Mark muttered. “We’re not enough of a threat.” Sjogydhu stopped to look at him, and Mark scowled as he was forced to sidestep to avoid a collision. “What?” he asked.

“She?” Sjogydhu asked.

Mark blinked. “Jesse and Jackie told you, right? The whole Ash Emperor thing, all the silent ones, they’re just a rogue vinesavaim.”

Sjogydhu paused, then smiled and shook his head. “An odd difference,” he said. “I suppose you have the benefit of an outsider’s perspective. To me, vinesavaim have been spoken of as men for so long that it comes naturally.” He resumed walking. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, though. It’s not as though they’re either.”

“Big angry storms don’t really need a gender,” Mark agreed. “But we’re pretty sure she thinks of herself that way.” He paused. “Does it bother you that Vumo never told you?” he asked. “He’s known for a while what the vinesavaim are.”

Sjogydhu shook his head again. “Vumo Ra chooses to share what he believes is necessary. If there is no benefit to knowing something, or if there is risk that outweighs that benefit - why stir up dust?”

“You really do trust him absolutely,” Mark said wonderingly. “You don’t ever worry that he might be wrong? It happens to everyone, even ancient know-it-alls.”

There was a hitch in Sjogydhu’s step, but he continued forward. “He is just a man,” Sjogydhu said. “He will make mistakes as we all do. Perhaps when I have lived for as many lives as he, served under three kings and read the archives of every library in Tinem Sjocel, when I have visited every known land and spoken to all that live there - perhaps then I might have come near enough to him that I might offer commentary on his actions. Until then, he has my trust - and my obedience.”

“That’s your call,” Mark said, ducking his head as they passed under a low archway. Black stone rose up before them as the city crowded close to the old wall, built taller and more solidly than any of the dusty imitations littering the land around it. “I’m still going to tell him what I think, though.”

“I would not dare to expect anything else,” Sjogydhu sighed. “Come on, your friends are above.” They ascended a cramped, narrow stair that led them up the interior face of the wall, putting them on a parapet that jutted out over the city behind them. They were near the endpoint of the wall, where the thick ribbon of black stone seemed to disappear into the rock face rather than ending just short of it. The cliffs rose high to the south, and before them the vast empty plains of the Vidim Vai rippled like cloth in the wind.

Jesse and Jackie were standing some distance away, although they both pivoted to look at Mark as soon as he emerged from the stairway. Jesse raised a hand to wave, while Jackie ran over excitedly and wrapped Mark in a surprisingly strong hug.

“Hey!” she said, pulling back to grin at him. “Holy shit, are we glad to see you.”

“I guess so,” Mark laughed, looking her over. Despite her smile Jackie seemed tired and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes. Jesse walked over at a more restrained pace to shake his hand and Mark noticed that he, too, was looking a bit drained. “You guys have a rough trip up?”

“You could say that,” Jesse sighed. “We can grab some food while we catch you up, but we’ve been running around like crazy. Vumo-” He hesitated. “He’s actually come up with some ideas I think could work. And this wall is incredible.” He let his fingers brush against his sword, looking with glazed eyes at the stone beneath their feet.

“It’s not just a wall,” he said reverently. “It’s some sort of giant scriptwork barrier, it draws energy from within the mountain - I think it might actually do something against the storm.”

“Well, that’s cool,” Mark said, nonplussed. “Does this mean we’re not fucked?”

“Oh, no, we’re still pretty fucked,” Jackie said wryly. “But I’m starting to think that if we get a few lucky breaks we’ve got a chance - a chance - to narrow the gap.”